


Almost to an Almost Home

by Zinfandel



Series: Of Voyages Both Uncertain and Bright [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Dissociation, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, LMAO, M/M, Panic Attacks, Time Travel, sort of, they make prodigious use of their time turner ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinfandel/pseuds/Zinfandel
Summary: Prompt from Tumblr: Can we have something like myron bode getting mugged or otherwise getting shit and credence sees and accidentally lets the obscurus save mr bode? - AnonymousNewt and Credence find themselves caught up in another situation that has nothing to do with either of them. This seems to be their fate.





	

It’s been a couple of ‘weeks’ by Newt’s standards now, but in reality the london skyline is just breaching the horizon. The week long voyage is almost at an end, and thank merlin for that. 

He didn’t anticipate Credence’s thirst for knowledge and the pair of them have been making obscene use of Newt’s time turner while in the suitcase. Credence took to the concept of the time turner with terrifying grace and once he grew comfortable with it’s brand of magic, Newt never finds any less than four Credences around the workshop or habitats devoutly devouring every single text he can get his hands on.

It is a wondrous thing to watch Credence absorb knowledge, and it’s only mildly uncomfortable when he is assaulted at every turn with a Credence full of quiet questions about foreign magic words and concepts. Good thing he has learned to read or Newt would be utterly stuck in how to introduce Credence to the wizarding world he adopted him into.

As it is, Credence reads astoundingly fast and is maybe on the second read through of most of Newt’s books. He has a good many, but they clearly focus on magizoology (what meager writings there were. Newt was writing his own gospel on the matter for a reason), magical herbs, and other necessities for travel and rough living. There are survival manuals, potion brewing books, healing doctrines, books on practical magics, and defensive spell tomes for protection and concealment.

It’s a pretty good foundation all things considered, but there is nothing to help Credence with basics of magic, theory, history, or primary education. First year books. Newt will have to take him to Diagon Alley straight away to pick up all the course books for every year of hogwarts education. 

Credence should be able to read through them all in a month or so at this rate, and then Newt could maybe see how they might figure out utilizing Credence’s mutated magic to make it useful once more.

Plans. There are lots of plans. They make Newt almost giddy. 

As it is, the plans must wait till later. Right now, Newt turns towards Credence who is writing notes in one of Newt’s spare notebooks from a text on scavenging for wild edible plants and the charms and transfigurations needed to create your own in a pinch. 

“Credence,” He says gently. He has found that Credence is very skittish still, frightened of himself and the foreign space that is the suitcase interior no matter his best intentions. Newt knows he will relax eventually, but it still hurts to see Credence so wary and feral. 

Credence looks up, blinking the daze away from his eyes. He needs to sleep more, maybe Newt will be able to convince him to turn a few hours over for rest after this.

“London is on the horizon, want to look? Get lunch?”

Credence nods and closes his books, leaving his quill between the pages to save his place. Newt has yet to coax many words from his lips. Patience. 

Unhurriedly, the pair of them climb out of the suitcase into Newt’s private cabin before making their way to the main deck. Newt keeps his case on hand because some of his tenants are getting restless being confined for so long and the case latches have been flicking open a bit more frequently.

The niffler is in dire straights these days being prevented from looting the cabins of all the rich travelers. 

The pair of them make their way over to the ship railings, Credence trailing behind Newt just a pace, and Newt leans over the rail just a bit. 

“Interesting, right? Almost home. Sort of. It’s a sort of home, a place to come back to at least, but the suitcase is more a home now,” Newt says, his eyes fixed on the blocky silhouette of London creeping ever closer. 

“You’ll see though. My flat is -uh- cozy? we can stay however long you’d like. Once the book is published we can go wherever. Make a list, I don’t mind.” Newt has been speaking much more frequently these days with Credence’s silent presence, though he still finds linguistic communication tedious. 

It’s not because the silences are tiresome, no. Newt loves the quiet moments between them, is more familiar with them, having not resided with a human companion in a good many years. It’s because there is actually so much to say, so much to teach Credence. Newt finds that his throat sometimes burns in the evenings he speaks so much, explains things as they occur to him, tells Credence about this creature or that beast, this method of care and that spell to achieve it. 

And Credence is a rapt audience, quiet yet attentive, Newt can hardly help himself.

Credence nods thoughtfully beside him and finally tips his head up enough to watch the horizon. The sun is high up and the sky is clear, the wind is sharp and cold. Newt feels a swell of hopeful anticipation. Finally things are falling into place.

But, right as this thought occurs, a shout behind them disrupts the peace.

Both Credence and Newt spin around to face the commotion, and more screams pierce the air. Men and women are scrambling back against the railings and the walls as the center of the deck clears of muggles to leave…

Newt sucks in a breath. Credence tenses to rigidness beside him. Wizards. Three wizards facing off without a single care for the spectacle they are making in front of a literal crowd of muggles.

Didn’t Newt  _ just _ sacrifice so very much to prevent this exact scenario from happening again?!

A hand twists into the back of Newt’s cloak and the sensation shatters his moment of incredulity. He quickly glances over to Credence to see him ghastly pale. 

Oh no.

“Credence,” Newt mutters and slips his hand behind himself to grip around Credence’s clenched fist.

Credence shifts his grip to Newt’s hand. 

One of the wizards, a raggedy looking witch in leather and fringe, casts spells locking the doorways leading from the main deck. The other wizard, a tall greasy looking man also in riding leathers points his wand at an older man, who is calmly taking off his felt hat.

Credence sucks in a strained breath beside him.

“Mr. Bode!” the man leers and waves his arms out in a mock bow. “So glad we could catch up to you!”

Mr. Bode? Newt blinks a moment, astonished, then sighs in relief. This is something that has absolutely nothing to do with him or Credence. Thank the stars. Newt has been the center of chaos for so long he had just assumed and…

Credence grips his hand tighter. “Mr Scamander…” He mumbles

“Newt-”

“Newt. I-I...I met that man. He was,” Credence swallows and tips his head down. Newt feels a tremor start in his hand, Credence is tense and locking himself up. “H-he was kind to me,” He finishes in a whisper.

Oh hell. 

The crowd is tense and scared around them, the muggles bewildered and confused but sufficiently cowed by the woman’s flashy Colloportus spell. 

“You have something we require, Mr. Bode, and I suggest you hand it over before Nomajs start to perish.”

“I quite do not know what you mean,” The elderly wizard states, standing tall and easy for such an unassuming and portly fellow. 

Then, Mr Bode draws his wand and pandemonium ensues. Spells fly between the three wizards and muggles are spurred to action, ducking and running and crowding the staircases to the upper decks while others try vainly to yank open the locked doors, and even more are transfixed by the dramatics, raptly watching. 

There are shrieks and shouts and booming reverberations of magic slamming into deck boards and benches that rattle the ship itself. 

They are gaining a lot of unwanted attention and Newt reaches for his own wand. 

“The prophecy, Mr. Bode!” The woman shrieks.

“Not on your life!” Mr. Bode skillfully dodges and weaves around the random assortment of hexes and curses slinging his way from the two scruffy pioneer wizards and Newt would be impressed if he weren’t suddenly distracted by a vice-like grip and a keen of distress at his shoulder.

“C-Credence-?” Newt gasps and spins to face his charge without letting go of their hands. 

Credence is chewing the inside of his cheeks and his eyes are wide as saucers as he watches the wizard duel. Newt glances down and away, peaking back towards the duel. 

But suddenly, Newt’s fingers grasp nothing.

He looks back, shocked that Credence would let go in his distress, but he hasn’t.

He didn’t let go, his fingers are blackened soot digits swirling in and out of formation, as if his hands are trying desperately to remain hand shaped, and Newt supposes they are for Credence is quivering like a leaf, his eyes fearful and fading pale.

“Credence! Credence, listen to me-” Newt heaves as he reaches higher up his arms to grip Credence on each bicep. He is alarmed to feel his fingers sinking into fabric and flesh like they should never be allowed. Dust is swirling off of Credence’s hair and Newt can’t think of anything but to shake him.

“Credence! We’re safe, we’re safe we’re fine, they aren’t here for you i promise on every ounce of honor I own- We’ve escaped, you escaped-Credence-”

Newt shakes him again. 

And Credence sobs a painful tight sound.

Hands come up and grip at Newt’s elbows and before he knows it, Newt is holding Credence up as his knees buckle under him, trembling. 

Carefully, Newt lowers Credence to the deck following him down, not daring to abandon him now, not when he’s so close to completely disintegrating. Graceless appeals are falling from his lips as he utters whatever comforting words come to him, and he is hysterically relieved they seem to be working. Newt keeps his head down, but his hold remains tight.

Credence is gripping back painfully hard even though his eyes are an unfocused milk, he is still trembling fiercely.

Newt hasn’t seen him like this since New York, and foolishly he had thought that maybe Credence’s reactions then were due to the extreme circumstances.

Not so.

Well, maybe so still. Newt cannot adequately determine if this reaction to the violence is due to memories of intense fear and helplessness or to some other cause. An answer for later, Newt couldn’t waste time on hypothesizing. 

“Shh, shh Credence. We’re alright, they aren’t here for us-” Newt tries to soothe, but his crooning reassurances are abruptly interrupted.

Credence tenses again as a deafening whoosh of crashing water arcs over their heads in a jet so intense the two assailing wizards are immediately swept overboard. 

Silence then falls so unexpectedly Newt’s eyes shoot back to Credence whose heaving breaths are the loudest sound over the dripping remnants of a massive Aqua Eructo charm. 

“Oh dear, what a mess...” 

Newt blinks, his grip on Credence’s arms loosening. Good Moons, what just happened?

Credence is still shivering as Newt looks behind him.

Mr. Myron Bode is the last man standing in the middle of the main deck. He is wringing out his felt hat, his wand tucked under one arm. 

Newt’s mouth drops open.

Which seems to be the cue for Mr. Bode to finally look up and notice them. “Ah! Credence!” He says amicably as he strolls on over to them.

“You seem to have not recovered as well as I had hoped, the more's the pity, I hope you feel better soon. Your friend is-?”

“Scamander,” Newt rasps, letting go of his shock. “Newt, Scamander,” he reaches a hand up for Mr. Bode to shake, which he does jovially.

“Good good, Very good. Mr. Scamander I couldn’t be so rude as to bother you for a favor, could I?” 

With a firm squeeze to Credence’s arm, Newt stands to face the man who just moments ago effectively murdered two  wizards. “Perhaps…”

“Just some aid in cleaning up this mess if you don’t mind? I would be here all afternoon obliviating the nomajs otherwise.”

Newt nods. That sounds reasonable enough. He hadn’t paid attention to the muggles but now that he has been reminded, he looks around to the score of them huddled in corners, getting up from the deck, crying. He sighs.

“Credence,” Newt says turning back to him. “Come and sit on the bench and wait for me for a moment?”

Credence blinks and shifts. The sheer normalcy that has befallen after the attack seems to have thrown Credence enough to snap him out of his panic, Newt sighs in relief as he offers both hands out to help Credence stand. 

Credence takes them and jerkily pulls himself up and Newt is glad for it. He isn’t completely incapacitated and his flesh appears to be solid once again. Both great signs. 

Newt gently sits Credence down on the bench then gathers up his forgotten suitcase and lays it directly in Credence’s lap. “Watch them for me while I help Mr. Bode?”

Credence merely nods as Newt turns and wields his wand.

Methodically, Mr. Bode starts obliviating the muggles, and then stupefying the ones who spook and move to run. Newt watches for a moment morbidly fascinated by his efficiency and wonders about the identity of this wizard truly. 

He begins his own spellwork moving in the opposite direction of Mr. Bode and makes a quiet promise to simply let his curiosity rest on this matter. The mysterious and scarily capable old man can keep his secrets, Newt has more important problems.Namely, that Credence is perfectly still on the bench, gripping the suitcase overly firm with his hands held protectively over the latches on the front. 

He doesn’t so much as slump, he is held so rigidly upright. 

Newt worries as he stupefies his first running muggle with a grimace. He doesn’t appreciate this work, and loathes the American’s laws for it, but he has learned his lesson quite thoroughly from Tina. Some things need more protection, and the time is far from right for revealing secrets. 

Mr. Bode meets him halfway a good ten minutes of quick and precise casting later. The pair of them converge back in front of Credence.

Tucking his wand back into his coat pocket, Mr. Bode looks down at Credence before facing Newt with an upset frown. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr.Scamander. Much obliged. It seems Credence suffered quite the fright and I do apologize. This weather is of no enjoyment for one with such a delicate constitution as he. Credence?”

Newt watches him slowly blink, but his eyes don’t focus on Mr. Bode. He seems vacant. “Hmm…” the man hums, leaning in a bit.

“It’s alright, Mr. Bode. I was glad to assist and Credence just needs a bit of rest is all. We’re almost to harbor and almost home.” Newt interjects, trying to spare his companion the stranger’s scrutiny. 

“Some hot drinking chocolate should hit the spot, I think.” Mr. Bode states matter-of-factly as he straightens. He rummages in his coat for a minute before pulling out a thick block of paper and twine wrapped chocolate and hands it to Newt who takes it, a bit mystified. 

“Consider it a thank you present and an apology for the disturbance. Almost to harbor and all, they were getting quite desperate. Worse for them, unfortunately. I’ll leave you to it Mr. Scamander,” the elderly man says with a quick bow as he places his now dried felt cap back on his head. 

“Ah, uh...Thank you,” Newt replies with the automatic courtesy.

“Here is my calling card, I’ll be staying with my family and grandsons for the rest of the season up in Swaffham. We would love for you to visit, the country is always so healing for the spirit, and we are open by floo. Our private hearth is just under the address. Good day.” 

Newt feels a bit stunned himself watching Mr. Bode leave, but the stupefied people are already coming around and the obliviated ones are becoming curious. It is definitely best they go back to his room now. Mr. Bode was right, Credence does need to get inside. 

Gently laying a hand on Credence’s shoulder, Newt frowns at the minimal reaction. Slowly, he grips Credence by both arms and pulls a bit. “Come on Credence, let's go back to the room, hm?” 

Credence follows his pull numbly, but he is blinking more, looking down. Newt takes that as a better sign and leads him with one hand at the small of his back and the other on his elbow back into the hallways. Credence has a firm grip on the suitcase so Newt isn’t worried for that, he has much bigger problems in his own hands. 

After getting back to their room, Newt helps Credence down the ladder into the workshop. It is quieter than Newt has grown accustomed to, and with a cagey glance around he finds out why. 

The time turner sits on top of Credence’s notebook. All of the other iterations of time have converged and there is only the pair of them left in the whole of the suitcase. 

Newt breathes a release of tension he did not know he held. Thank merlin there is only one Credence to assist, and none of him to explain to. Small mercies. 

After a pause he leads Credence over to the table and helps him sit. “Wait a moment and i’ll have some hot drinking chocolate for us. That should chase away the ocean chill and the sugar will help. Then, we can get some rest before the boat docks, sound alright?” Newt tries. He gets no response. 

He sighs but turns to his basin of everlasting fire to put the chocolate on to melt. Busying himself with the making of the drink, Newt lets his mind wander a bit over what just happened. 

Bugger their luck really. 

But it did happen and now Credence seems to have detached from reality. It’s a rather severe coping mechanism, and one Newt hasn’t witnessed from him in the weeks-well...Wrong again. 

He  _ has _ been privy to these reactions, hasn’t he. 

Credence has gone unnaturally quiet on many occasions now that Newt thinks back. Credence is always quiet but sometimes...sometimes Newt can tell his eyes are not reading the words his head is tipped towards, that Credence does not sleep in though he never gets out of bed early, that he often does not taste the food he methodically eats. 

He wouldn’t say that Credence is always like this, and lately he has been more present, but a significant amount of time still lapses into spells of his divorcement from consciousness. It is worrisome, and Newt fears this incident will force Credence back into reticence. 

Finished with preparing the drinks, Newt pours them into two mugs and joins Credence at the table. He sets his mug down and softly wraps Credence's hands around his own before taking a seat next to him. “Here.” He says simply before taking a sip.

Newt lets him lull for a long while as he slowly sips his chocolate and keeps his head down. He watches Credence from the corner of his eye to give him a bit of privacy, but Newt cannot make himself actually leave. He fears loneliness would only exacerbate this episode and he plans to not let Credence out of his sight for  good long while now.

At the very least, Newt needs to observe him more, figure out his behaviors as they are when he is like this and the differences between them when he is not. 

For as much more talking Newt has been doing, he is finding that reading Credence is similar to communicating with his creatures. His body language says more than his lips do, Newt just wishes sometimes that his actions weren’t so irrevocably wrapped up in obvious and daunting trauma. 

Newt blinks and almost misses it.

Credence’s hands tighten around his mug while his head tips up from its painful looking slump to finally see what he’s holding. 

Newt watches him stare at it for a good moment and notices it has gone cold.

“It’s drinking chocolate, may I heat it back up for you?” He tries.

And gets a tiny little nod. Newt wonders if Credence has ever tasted drinking chocolate but doesn’t bother asking as he deliberately brings his wand into view before tapping the tip against the mug.

Steam starts to rise from the creamy liquid again and Credence brings it to his lips as if in a daze. He sips at the chocolate and then blinks.

Newt grins as a bit of life sparkles back into Credence’s eyes. The chocolate is delicious as he can attest and the taste and sensation of it on Credence’s tongue has done its own sort of magic. 

More time passes as Newt lets Credence drink his treat at his own pace. Credence never sets the mug back down, holding it in both hands warming himself outside and in. Newt notes that he should include an addendum in his medical and magical plant books to include chocolate. The beans are listed there for a variety of purposes, but the comforting properties of them has always been more of an oral record. 

Credence finishes his drink and looks at Newt as if expecting something, and Newt is bewildered for all of a second before he remembers, “Oh! Right, lets get some rest, hm?” 

Grabbing the time turner, Newt slings the long chain of it over both their heads. Credence is used to this by now and doesn’t react, though Newt does pull him to his feet to stand beside the table. 

“Four hours?” He asks, but knows he won’t get a reply, so after a short pause, he flips the turner four times and lets the magic work.

After a flash, the pair of them are joined by a Credence sitting at the table, his books open and intently taking notes. This older Credence looks up to acknowledge the pair of them, then halts. His eyes blink wide and Newt can see the alarm already taking hold.

“Ah, ah Credence, no need to worry. We’re just heading in for a nap. Just tired is all, you’ll see in about two hours or so regardless, so uh...uh, yes. Right. Excuse us.” 

Newt shuffles Credence to his bedroom his hand back on his elbow before the older Credence could try and find out more. He pulls the door curtain closed behind them and helps Credence out of his jacket. Soon, Credence is down to his underclothes and getting into his bed as Newt turns back to him, taking off his vest and tie. 

Credence pauses and blinks up at him. 

“I uh…” Newt mumbles, not quite knowing what he is intending to do, his hammock is out in the enclosure proper but he doesn’t want to leave Credence alone and he also wants a nap. 

Before he can think of a good excuse, a truth is tumbling from his lips. “I don’t much enjoy having to obliviate muggles, no matter the situation, and well...Frank…” Newt trails off. 

He doesn’t have to keep trying to explain to his immense relief because Credence shuffles over in his bed and holds open the sheets for him. Newt immediately sits on the edge to remove his shoes and socks and finds his mouth wants to keep moving. “And uhm, I don’t want you to be alone for a while, I hope you understand, and it really was cold outside-”

“Newt.”

Newt twists to look at Credence who finally said something, thank the Telchines. He watches as Credence lays down in the bed and stares at him as he shifts his head into his pillow. 

With a huff and a small smile, Newt lays down as well, pulling the bedsheets up to cover them both.

**Author's Note:**

> tah-dah! now its officially a series!  
> this prompt officially got away from me at about the 2k mark so, eyyyyy! You go Mr. Myron Bode, International Wizard of Mystery!
> 
> [I am accepting writing prompts at my tumblr.](http://zinfandelli.tumblr.com/)


End file.
